


Going Home: Back Again

by lod



Series: Pegoryu Week 2018 [6]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pegoryu Week 2018, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, akiryu, pegoryu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-31 10:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15117320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lod/pseuds/lod
Summary: When Akira breaks, Ryuji will always be there.[ReadGoing Home: Therefirst!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pegoryu Week 2018, day 7: Reunion. This is the second half of a single story, but I wanted each of my Pegoryu Week entries to be their own full work.

Ryuji finished toweling off his hair as he walked back into his bedroom. It had been a long day of moving furniture around and painting walls, ceilings, even the inside of the built-in closet, but it had been worth it to see the look on his mom’s face when she’d come home. Her bedroom had been some outdated shade of salmon for as long as they’d lived there. To be fair, it probably hadn’t been that outdated when his parents had moved in about 20 years ago, but it hadn’t aged well, and even with his mom’s meticulous cleaning, the ceiling remained yellowed from his father’s cigarette smoke. Two coats of white paint on the ceiling, lilac and cream on the walls, and it looked like a whole new room. Ryuji was pretty proud of it, even if he  _ had _ needed to drag Haru to the paint store to help him pick out the paint, and had Ann figure out which bits to paint in which color. He’d spent most of the day on speakerphone with her, actually; she’d played him some of her favorite playlists, and it made the dull task of painting slightly better to do it with a friend.

Scratching a bit of paint he’d missed off his forearm, he checked his phone. There was a mail from school about an assembly coming up, and a picture of a waffle dripping with syrup and strawberries from Ann — probably her idea of a healthy dinner — but nothing from the one person he’d been hoping for. It seemed like Akira never wrote to him first these days, only replied.

Ryuji felt so petty thinking of their conversations that way, as though who started it mattered, but at the same time… it hurt a bit, felt like Akira didn’t really want to talk to him. He wondered if perhaps he was imagining it, but as he scrolled through their conversation history, he realised the only time Akira had messaged him first for the last week had been to ask him about the name of a book they’d read in English class last year.

Not for the first time, Ryuji wished Akira was still sleeping above Leblanc. Then he could have headed over, and there wouldn’t have been any of this worrying and score-keeping. Everything was so effortless between them when they were face-to-face. Sighing, he keyed in a quick text.

> **Ryuji** We didn’t get to talk this week :(
> 
> **Ryuji** I miss your face!

He finished packing his school bag for the next day and setting out a change of clothes, checking his phone before getting into bed.

> **Akira** It’s ok, we’ll talk next week. Miss you too!

There wasn’t anything  _ wrong _ with Akira’s reply, per se, but something about it bugged Ryuji. It felt… forced. No emojis, no mention of what he’d done during the day, like he’d closed the door on a potential conversation. Ryuji waited, hoping for another text, but after 5 minutes realised one probably wasn’t coming. It was pretty late; maybe he’d woken Akira up. He couldn’t blame him for not being too chatty when it was past midnight. Ryuji stretched out on his bed, and slept.

* * *

 

The next day, Ryuji, Ann and Futaba were eating lunch together in Futaba’s classroom, as had quickly become their habit. Mishima also joined them when he wasn’t busy with student council duties. At first, it had been to help Futaba settle in to school; staying in her classroom meant she had to see fewer people in the hallways. As the days had gone by, they’d realised that the classroom was a lot quieter than the cafeteria, and less prone to weather complications than the roof. There was something a little nostalgic about it, too; by some twist of fate, Futaba had ended up in Akira’s seat, and it felt like he might walk through the door at any time, coming back to join them.

Today, Ann was sitting next to Futaba, and Ryuji had taken the seat behind her, where the erstwhile Green Pencil Case-kun had sat. Ryuji still couldn’t believe Akira and Ann had spent a whole year sitting in front of this guy and not once managed to catch his actual name. Apparently, he would make these little shocked gasps every time Akira ended up making lockpicks and Metaverse bombs in class, but considering they’d never gotten in trouble he probably hadn’t ratted them out. He’d even whispered the correct answer for a question to Akira once. He deserved to be known by name, but he’d transferred to a different school this year, so the quiet hero would have to live on remembered by his choice of school supplies.

As they pulled out their lunches, Ryuji spoke up.

“So I’ve been thinking…” Futaba snickered, and he waved a hand in her direction resignedly. “Go on, get all your jokes about me never thinking out of your system…”

Futaba sobered up. “Actually, last year I would have, but you’re a changed man, Ryuji.”

“What were you going to say?” Ann interjected.

“Have you guys been keeping in touch with Akira?”

Ryuji didn’t miss the way Futaba’s face instantly set into an angry scowl, but Ann replied first. “I don’t think we’ve talked outside the group chat since school started, but we rarely did when he was back here either.”

“Yeah, well, we did,” Futaba said. “All the time! But for the last two weeks he’s been replying to everything I send him with three letter words. If he doesn’t want to talk he can just say it, but this shit’s just pissing me off.”

“Three letter words?” Ann repeated.

“Yeah, you know. ‘K, ‘lol, ‘heh,’ that kind of thing. The text equivalent of ‘Do I look like I care.’”

“‘K’ isn’t 3 letters?”

“It counts.”

Ryuji rubbed his thumb along his eyebrow. “I’m getting kind of worried. I’m sure you guys noticed he barely talks in the group chat anymore, but even just with me, he’s been more and more distant lately. He replies when I write to him, but it’s not right. It doesn’t feel like he cares. Maybe he’s just not that into me anymore, but it seems weird that he’d get tired of talking to all of us, at the same time…”

“You’re not sure, right? And it’s just you two? It might be nothing,” Ann said in a reassuring tone. “Who else do you think he would have texted a lot with?”

He thought about it. Definitely not Yusuke. Maybe Haru and Makoto, although they weren’t super active in the group chat, so he doubted they were big texters. Or maybe… “Mishima?”

Futaba nodded. “Probably. That dude cannot shut up online, I swear. I ask one question about how he’s doing with school council, just to be nice, and he sends me walls of text until 1 am.”

“Ok, I’ll ask him,” Ryuji said, pulling out his phone to text him.

They moved away from the subject, discussing their upcoming movie marathon night. Futaba had found out that Yusuke, to nobody’s surprise, had never seen most classic movies. Since that was obviously unacceptable, they’d all decided to cancel their Saturday plans and spend the whole afternoon watching movies after school. Yusuke’s protestations had gone ignored, and even Makoto had said she would be able to join them for a few hours. It was 10 minutes to the end of lunch when they’d finally decided what the day’s lineup would be. They’d open with Ann’s pick, Pulp Reality, then 2 Slow 2 Sensitive, Ryuji’s personal favorite from the hyper popular romance series, and finally end with Rave of the Fireflies, which Futaba had rightfully insisted had to go last, so they could hide their tears in the dark.

They were beginning to put their things away when Mishima walked in. “Hey!” Ann called out. “You’re super late, we were getting ready to head out.”

“I know, had a meeting, but I got Ryuji’s text.”

“And?” Futaba asked.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I figured it was just me coming on too strong again, but yeah, he’s barely said a word to me these last few weeks. I know I can be a bit much but if you’re saying it’s the same with you two… I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“It’s unlikely he’d suddenly decide he doesn’t want to talk to any of us without some sort of reason,” Ryuji agreed. “I’m gonna see if I can get anything out of him. I’ll let you guys know how it goes.”

They split up to head to their classes, Ryuji struggling to focus as his mind wandered back to thoughts of Akira.

* * *

 

Ryuji managed to find the time for a video call with Akira that evening, which did nothing to alleviate his worries. He was a mess, his eyes dark and bloodshot, his hair even messier than usual, his cheeks looking almost hollow. When Ryuji asked if he was ok, Akira said he was fine, just tired, that he hadn’t been sleeping very well. It was a weak excuse, but Ryuji let it pass. He talked about the upcoming Golden Week instead, which was just two weeks away now; Akira would finally be coming back to Tokyo. It would be the first time they’d see each other in almost a month and a half, and Ryuji couldn’t wait. Akira said that he couldn’t either, commented on how nice it’d be to see everyone again, but despite his words the distant, empty expression he wore didn’t waver.

Akira wasn’t particularly expressive, and Ryuji doubted anyone else would have caught the difference, but he knew his boyfriend too well. He knew the way his eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly when he smiled, the way his brows slackened when he was at ease, the way his jaw tightened the tiniest bit when he was stressed. Ryuji could read him like an open book. But this time, it was like… it wasn’t even like the book was closed, Ryuji thought. It was like there was no book. Just a blank, empty page.

Another 15 minutes passed as Ryuji talked about the movie night and gave Akira updates on everyone. When he tried to ask Akira what he’d been up to, though, the boy just yawned, sliding a hand beneath his messy curls and rubbing his forehead. “Actually, do you think we can talk more another time? I’m really tired. I should get to sleep, and let you get back to studying.”

Ryuji frowned. “I don’t have a test coming up, don’t worry. I can study tomorrow. And isn’t it still pretty early to sleep?”

“Well, I’m tired, ok?!” Akira snapped.

Ryuji was taken aback. Akira’d never, ever spoken to him on that tone. “Sorry?” he apologized hesitantly.

Akira pushed away from his desk. “No, it’s… It’s fine. I just need to go lie down. Have a good evening.”

“You too, Aki. I love you.”

“...I love you too.”

If the rest of the conversation hadn’t been enough to set off alarm bells, the flat, emotionless way Akira had said that would have done it. Something was definitely wrong.

On a whim, Ryuji opened up his laptop, and searched for “mental illness symptoms.” Thirty minutes later, he had no doubts anymore. It seemed like every symptom fit; apathy, loss of energy, sleeping issues, irritability, weight changes… He wasn’t sure what to do with the information, though, and he needed to head to the gym for his job.

Ryuji was distracted the entire time, even dropping a weight at one point. Luckily, no one got injured, but even his client’s dirty looks weren’t enough to stop him thinking about Akira. When he came home that evening, he scrolled through article after article. It was around midnight when he decided he really needed to talk to someone about this.

That time of night, the only reliable person to contact was Futaba, so he opened his chat program and sent her a message.

> **Ryuji** I think Akira’s depressed.

He went on, explaining the call, the symptoms. After a few minutes, Futaba wrote back.

> **Futaba** wow
> 
> **Futaba** yeah that fits really well actually :/
> 
> **Futaba** what should we do?
> 
> **Ryuji** I’m not sure. I can’t stand the idea of him being alone, in pain.

Ryuji looked at what he’d written, the lightbulb going off in his head. It was obvious, wasn’t it?

> **Ryuji** I’m gonna go see him.

As soon as he’d sent the message, Ryuji opened a new tab, looking up the cost of trains to Akira’s place for the next weekend. It wasn’t exactly cheap, but it was actually more affordable than he’d expected. Perhaps it had something to do with the proximity of Golden Week. If he left on Saturday morning and came back Sunday evening, he would only miss one day of school. He could just say he was sick, convince his mother to cover for him. As he checked timetables, Futaba’s reply pinged in.

> **Futaba** don’t you have school? and he’s coming in like two weeks anyway??

Ryuji bit his lip. Akira  _ was _ going to be here very soon, but at the same time… Ryuji couldn’t imagine leaving him alone for two whole weeks in this state.

> **Ryuji** Honestly, it’s scary seeing him like that. I don’t wanna wait that long.
> 
> **Futaba** considering what you told me, is he even gonna let you come though?

She had a point. 

> **Ryuji** I’m not gonna give him a choice.
> 
> **Ryuji** I need you to find his parents’ phone number.
> 
> **Futaba** stalker!
> 
> **Ryuji** I can’t afford a hotel, and I’d rather check that they’re ok with me showing up!
> 
> **Futaba** yeah yeah I’m on it. I’ll let you know. gotta sleep now I guess, Sojiro’s yelling. ttyl

Putting the phone down, Ryuji looked at his laptop. It didn’t seem like a good idea to book the tickets before he contacted Akira’s parents, but then again, he was going to go no matter what they said. So, there was no reason to wait and risk the tickets being sold out, was there? Impulsively, he added them to his basket and paid. There. It was done. His shoulders sagged with relief at finally acting. Ryuji wasn’t one to wait passively, and the stress he’d been feeling over Akira lately had been gnawing at him. Exhaustion replaced it, and he let himself drop heavily into bed, falling asleep nearly instantly.

* * *

Futaba got him the phone number after school the next day, making a comment about unprotected company intranets that went over his head. Belatedly, he realised that he could have just asked Sojiro, who certainly had it. Ah, well, it was more in keeping with the Phantom Thieves aesthetic to steal it anyway.

Ryuji waited to get home from his study session before he called the number. A man picked up on the second ring.

“Kurusu residence, to whom am I speaking?”

“Um, hello. It’s Ryuji? Ryuji Sakamoto. I’m one of Akira’s friends in Tokyo. We met when we came to drop him off.”

“Oh, Ryuji! The blond, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what can I do for ya?”

“It’s about Akira. I’m… worried about him.”

There was a beat of silence, then Akira’s father replied, “So are we.”

That was all the permission to talk Ryuji needed. “He’s been really quiet, and he hardly talks anymore, not even to me, he looks like hell on video, and I mean if he doesn’t like me anymore that’s fine but I’m kinda afraid he don’t like nothin’ anymore right now!” The words came spilling out in a rush.

“Hmm. Ryuji?” the man asked.

“Yes?”

“Who are you to my son, precisely?”

“His boyfriend?” Ryuji replied, confused. When there was no answer, he realised what he’d just done. If the man had asked, that meant he didn’t know. If he didn’t know, that meant Akira hadn’t told him. And if Akira hadn’t told him, he’d probably had a good reason for it. “Shit,” he whispered, the word escaping him.

“... Don’t worry. It’s not a problem, it’s just that Akira never told us about you.”

Ryuji felt a cold chill spill down his spine. “He didn’t?”

The pain must have been audible in his voice, because Akira’s father quickly added in a gentle tone, “Don’t take it personally. He’s barely told us anything about Tokyo. I’m not sure we’d even know if he had friends if you all hadn’t come down to drop him off.”

Ryuji dragged his mind back to what he’d wanted to discuss. “I knew he wouldn’t be too happy to go back, but it feels like more than just unhappiness at this point. He, um... fits a lot of the symptoms of depression,” he said, the last words nearly silent, as if by speaking them out loud he was making them real.

“We’ve been wondering about the same thing,” Akira’s father replied. “But he just snaps at us if we make any suggestion of seeing someone. He already trusts us so little that we don’t want to force him into anything, but we’re running out of options. He’s getting visibly worse day by day.”

Ryuji stuffed down the comment he wanted to make, that trust was earned and they’d done nothing to deserve it. He couldn’t risk alienating the only link he had to Akira right now. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I was wondering if it would be alright if I came to visit this weekend. I think I could get him to talk to me, if we were in the same room.”

“Of course,” was the immediate answer. “When can you come? We’ll book your tickets.”

Ryuji blinked. If he’d known that was an option... “Um, don’t worry about it. I already found some.”

The unquestioning, generous offer wasn’t enough to make Ryuji forget how they’d treated Akira, ignoring him all of the previous year. It did, however, go some ways towards easing his negative opinion of them. He’d hated them like he hated his father at first, for abandoning Akira, but in reality they were probably just like most people; not inherently bad or good, just flawed humans, who made stupid choices sometimes.

“If it’s ok, I’d rather not tell Akira. I’m afraid he’ll try to push me away before I can even see him, if he knows in advance.”

The man consented, and they settled out the details of his trip before hanging up, Ryuji telling him when his train would get in so that they could come pick him up.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the week passed by at a snail’s pace. Ryuji and Futaba brought the rest of the Phantom Thieves up to speed on Akira’s situation, which was how Ryuji found himself packing an entire suitcase for a 2 day trip. He’d only been planning to bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush, but Haru had brought a bag of her homegrown coffee beans, followed by Makoto with a book she’d found inspirational, then it had been Ann with some foreign under-eye patches, Yusuke with a whole sketchbook of Palace and Mementos scenes, and finally Futaba dropping off a carefully bubble-wrapped figurine in its box, with strict admonitions not to let the package get even a bit damaged. And then there was his own gift. He’d actually had it in his closet for about a week now; he’d originally meant to give it to Akira when he came back for Golden Week, but it seemed right to bring it now. He folded it carefully, wrapping it in tissue paper, and put it in the suitcase, zipping it shut.

The train ride was uneventful. It was a Saturday morning, so there wasn’t anyone online to chat with. Ryuji played a bit on his console before letting the dull roar of the train lull him to sleep. Three hours later, the alarm he’d set on his phone woke him up, vibrating in his pocket a few minutes before he reached his stop. There was another short, regional train to take, and then Akira’s parents to meet at the station.

It wasn’t so small a city that he was the only one getting off, and he followed the dozen or so other riders who’d exited towards the station entrance. There were a few people waiting, but he had no trouble finding the ones he was looking for. He’d met them for a few short hours, back in March, but besides that they were Akira, or he was them, through and through. His father stood tall, hands in his pockets, a hint of Akira’s oversized lashes visible beneath a trim back swept haircut. Besides him, his mother, slightly shorter, seemed to disappear under the mass of wild soft curls that tumbled down her back and over her eyes.

The ride home, to his surprise, wasn’t too awkward; they asked about Akira’s other friends in Tokyo, before telling him what little they knew about Akira’s situation since he’d come back. It seemed like he didn’t have many, or perhaps any, friends here. He spent all his afternoons at home, doing homework and reading. That was it. Ryuji had trouble believing it. Akira, the guy who’d always had a million things to do, who you’d had to contact a week early for any hope of a spot in his social calendar, who knew everyone from disgraced politicians to Shogi queens, sitting at home night after night.

He felt ashamed. He should have realized earlier that Akira never talked about what he was doing, about friends or even acquaintances. But no, Ryuji’d been too busy talking about what was going on in Tokyo, about the fun they were having, about school… about all the things Akira missed, probably. He could have slapped himself.

* * *

 

Akira’s house wasn’t anything special; a small front garden, a slightly larger one out back, three bedrooms and a bathroom. It was calm, though. Ryuji wished his mom could have something like that.

When they got inside, Ryuji dropped his bag off in Akira’s bedroom. There was a futon for him, pulled out of the attic, and when he was given the choice of setting it up in Akira’s bedroom or in the spare room, he hesitated. In the end, he decided to pull it into Akira’s room; he could always move it again later if he had to, and he prefered making the optimistic assumption.

Akira’s parents had to leave a short time later. They’d be gone for the whole evening, a work function of some kind. After assuring Ryuji he could help himself to anything in the fridge, they headed out, leaving him alone in the house — or so he thought. Walking into the living room, he saw a familiar circle of black and white fur on the couch.

“Morgana?”

There was no reply, just an ear flicked in his direction, and he wondered for a moment if it wasn’t Morgana, just another cat, but no. There was no mistaking him. He got closer, asked, louder,

“Morgana, are you ok?”

The not-a-cat blinked his eyes open as he raised his head. “...Is that you, Ryuji?”

His voice was unclear, sounding halfway between speech and meows, and there was none of his usual explosive energy.

Ryuji sat on the couch. “You don’t look so good, dude.”

Morgana stretched, arching his back and then sitting up. “Can you keep talking to me?” he said, and half of Ryuji’s brain still tried to tell him what he was hearing was nothing more than meowing. “I think it’s helping.”

Ryuji didn’t really get it, but he did so anyway, telling Morgana about everything that had been going on in his absence, about school, the cafe, their friends. He was halfway through a story about Futaba hacking the school website to replace all the teachers’ pictures by Yusuke’s sketches of disturbing Shadows when Morgana burst out laughing.

“I wish I could have seen Kawakami’s face when she saw it!” he exclaims.

Turning to him, Ryuji smiled. “Feeling better?”

Morgana nodded, a really weird gesture on a cat. “Yeah! It’s weird, but I was starting to feel like… a cat. Like, all I’ve been wanting to do is sleep, and—” He shivered, horror in his eyes. “I think… I saw a cat in the street the other day and I wanted to get to know her better. I… I really owe you, Ryuji. Thank you for saving me from that. Maybe you’re not that bad after all”

“Not that I mind you being nice for once, but what did I do?”

“I came back after we got rid of the Metaverse because you all thought so strongly about me, right? I’ve got a theory that because I’m just a being of pure cognition, I’m actually sort of shaped by what people think of me. Everyone here treats me like a housepet, even Akira kinda stopped talking to me lately, and I was acting more and more like one. Then you came, talking to me like I was myself, and I already feel so much more awake.”

Ryuji tried to understand. “So what you’re saying is, if I thought really hard about you being a cucumber, you would start turning into one?”

Morgana’s fur puffed up instantly and he stopped just short of hissing. “What?! I don’t know, it’s just a theory like I said, but you better not try it! Ugh, I take back everything I said, you are totally that bad.”

“I’m just kidding,” Ryuji said, laughing. “Anyway, tell me what’s been going on here.”

* * *

 

About half an hour later, the front door slammed shut. Ryuji’s head jerked up, his train of thought entirely derailed. He wanted to jump up and run to Akira, but at the same time he was terrified — what if Akira just didn’t want to be with him anymore? What if he had read way too much into the situation?

He was saved from having to act by Akira’s appearance in the doorway.

“I thought you guys were going out to—” He froze as he made eye contact with Ryuji, dropping his school bag on the floor with a loud  _ thunk _ . The single part of Ryuji’s brain that wasn’t busy looking at Akira, analyzing every line in his face and his posture, commented that it was a good thing he didn’t carry Morgana around with him anymore.

They stared at each other, frozen in silence for what seemed like an eternity, finding their words at the same time—

“Ryuji—”

“Akira—”

“What are you doing here?” Akira said, slightly out of breath.

Ryuji stood, took a few steps towards Akira. “I wanted to see you.”

“But what about school? And your job? And the movie night?” He sounded more and more breathless, looked like a deer caught in headlights desperately searching for an escape.

“Rescheduled work, called in sick to school. None of that’s as important as you,” Ryuji said, closing the gap between them. Akira was on his way to hyperventilating at this point, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and Ryuji had to fight the urge to crush him in his arms.

“No,” Akira said between gasped breaths, “I’m not, that’s what I was afraid of, I don’t wanna hold you back, and now I’m ruining everything and—”

“You’re not ruining anything.” It was horrible, seeing Akira as this blubbering mess, so unlike him, and Ryuji couldn’t stand it another second. He wrapped his arms around Akira, hugging him to his chest with a feeling of unease. He’d been waiting for over a month to do this, but he hadn’t wanted it to be like this. Akira was stiff as a board in his arms, and Ryuji reluctantly let him go.

“You are the most important thing in my life and nothing is gonna change that,” Ryuji insisted, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Akira started crying in earnest, swiping a hand angrily across his eyes then all but running to his bedroom.

Ryuji followed him, but Akira slammed the door in his face. Shit. This was really not going well.

He tried the handle, but it was locked. “Aki, honey, please,” he begged, but the door remained obstinately shut. He leaned back against it, letting himself slide to the floor and burying his head in his hands. Morgana walked by, giving him a sympathetic look.

“I’ll head out, be back later. Don’t give up on him,” he said quietly, then made his way over to an open window and hoped outside.

Ryuji sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, the sky fading to a dusky blue as his thoughts drifted from Akira’s defeated, tearful face, to memories of their time together. He was so scared of losing him it hurt.

He’d about accepted that he would be spending the whole night in front of that door when he heard the lock click above his head, the door opening hesitantly. Ryuji jumped up.

“You’re still here,” Akira said in a broken voice. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

Ryuji’d had enough. “You know what, Akira? If you don’t want to be with me anymore, that’s fine. I’m not gonna tell you it wouldn’t break my heart, but I’d get over it. But I ain’t ever gonna stop being your friend and I ain’t ever gonna stop caring about you, so you can stop trying to push me away,” he snapped, loud and angry. He wedged his elbow against the door, keeping Akira from shutting it again.

Akira glared at him, his eyes red and puffy in the dim twilight. “Leave me alone!”

For a moment, Ryuji was afraid. He was bluffing, of course he was bluffing — there was no way it would be fine if Akira didn’t love him anymore. But he looked at Akira again, and behind the angry facade, he saw the plea for help in his eyes. It took all he had not to start crying right there. It wouldn’t help, but there was nothing as heart-wrenching as seeing the love of his life like this. He just wanted to hug him and tell him it would all be ok, but it was never that easy, was it?

“ _ Please,  _ Akira. Let me in,” he said, stepping away from the door.

He saw Akira hesitate, but then he pulled the door all the way open, stepping back inside as he muttered, “Whatever.”

It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. Ryuji walked in, dropping to a low seat on the futon he’d set up earlier. “Can we talk?”

Akira shook his head at him, and Ryuji sighed, but Akira looked defeated, not mad.

“I don’t mean… just, tomorrow, please. I’m so tired.”

“Ok.  _ Tomorrow _ ,” Ryuji repeated with an insistent look at Akira, who bowed his head slightly. “Come here, then. I’ve got some gifts for you,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the futon.

Akira sat cross-legged next to him, and he unzipped the suitcase, pulling out all the gifts. He saved his for last, watching him unwrap the tissue paper carefully. Akira unfolded the bright yellow shirt, holding it out at arm’s length silently, and Ryuji cursed himself. Of course it was a stupid idea, getting Akira a copy of his ZOMG shirt.

“Ugh, sorry, I can take it back if you want. You were always telling me how ugly my shirt was last year and I thought it’d be funny to get you your own. I’m an idiot.”

Akira tilted his head. “This isn’t yours?”

“Nah. Wasn’t easy to find another one either, I had to order it online from some guy in the US.”

“So… we can match?” Akira looked surprisingly eager at the prospect.

That was definitely not the answer Ryuji had been expecting. “Uh, I guess so?”

Akira looked at the shirt again, then put it down, and hugged Ryuji. It wasn’t an exuberant hug, but Ryuji leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Akira, and every cent he’d paid on the ridiculous shipping for the shirt was suddenly paid back a hundredfold. Holding Akira was the best stress reliever he’d ever known, and he felt a peace that had been escaping him since March flow through him. Akira pulled back much too soon, and Ryuji forced himself to let him go.

As Akira started flipping through Yusuke’s sketchbook, Ryuji pushed himself to his feet, saying, “I’m gonna go make dinner.” Akira made as if to follow, but the exhaustion was obvious in his movements, and Ryuji waved him off. “Don’t worry, I can find my way around a kitchen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryuji walked back into the room holding two bowls filled with omelette and rice. Far from fancy, but he hadn’t wanted to use any of the more expensive-looking ingredients in the fridge, and anyway he thought his sauce-making skills would keep it from being boring.

“Wanna eat here?” he asked, handing Akira a bowl. Akira nodded, so he put his own bowl down and went back to the kitchen, returning with water and cups. They ate in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing as they sat on the futon, and when they were finished Ryuji did the dishes while Akira got ready for bed, Morgana sitting by the counter to chat with him, licking errant water droplets off his fur with a disgruntled expression. Ryuji got some food out for Morgana before going to get ready himself.

Back in the bedroom, Akira was sitting on the edge of his bed. Ryuji turned off the lights, then walked over to the futon to lie down, but Akira spoke up as he did.

“Ryuji?” he said, his voice uncertain.

“Yeah?”

“Did you want to …” Akira trailed off, and Ryuji turned to see him in the moonlight. He was looking at the bed expectantly, and after a moment Ryuji caught his meaning with a flash of happiness.

“Of course! If you want me there, of course,” he said as he came to lie down next to Akira. He put a hand around his waist, drawing him down onto the bed, and Akira came willingly, wedging his head into Ryuji’s armpit. Ryuji buried his nose into Akira’s hair, inhaling deeply. He smelled like shampoo, mild and fresh and clean with the slightest musty undertone of sweat. He smelled like home.

* * *

 

The next day, they woke up with the sunrise, stretching sleepily against each other. Ryuji leaned down to kiss Akira’s forehead, and Akira responded by pushing himself up to press a kiss onto his lips. It took all the self-control he had, but Ryuji made himself get out of bed. There was nothing he wanted more than to lie there all day, kissing his boyfriend, relearning the feeling of his skin under his fingertips, but he was leaving in the early afternoon and they really needed to talk.

After convincing Akira to come for a run, and the ensuing shower, he fixed the two of them as well as Morgana a quick breakfast before they returned to Akira’s room.

They sat on the bed, leaning against the wall with their legs stretched out in front of them, and Ryuji ran soothing fingers through Akira’s hair as the boy rested his head on his shoulder and told him about his city, and school, and how everyone had been treating him like shit since he’d gotten back. That was bad enough, but when Akira started saying how useless he was, how he felt like he’d already done the one thing he was supposed to accomplish in life and now he was just drifting without a goal, Ryuji had to stop him.

“You’re not useless.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. Not like you, and Ann, and everyone else. I don’t even know if I want to go to university or not.”

Ryuji pulled him closer. “So what if you don’t know? We’re not even 18 yet. I want to be a gym teacher right now, sure, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make it happen, but maybe in two years I’ll suddenly decide I wanna like, drop everything and go paint ten versions of Mount Fuji.”

There was a puff of air against his neck as Akira laughed. “Please don’t turn into Yusuke. He’s a great guy, but… nah.”

Ryuji ruffled his hair. “Just for you, I’ll try not to. But I’m serious, ok? It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what you want to do yet. You can go to university and figure it out there, or you can not go, and you’re still gonna be amazing no matter where you end up. And I’ll be by your side.”

Akira still seemed a bit dubious, and Ryuji caught his chin, turning to look into his eyes. “You matter so damn much, Akira. To me, and to everyone else, too. You saw all the gifts everyone got you, and they barely had two days to get those to me. It’s not just them, either; I’ve seen Toranosuke-san a couple of times and he always asks me how you’re doing, and Futaba told me every time Takemi drops by the cafe she talks about you. You matter to so many people, dude,” he said, and Akira blushed, but didn’t try to push him away.

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” he said, his eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head back against the wall, “but when I’m here, it feels as though last year never happened. Like I’m just some powerless kid. You know, when the Metaverse collapsed, it felt like… like we’d saved the world, yeah, but also like the only important chapter of my life had suddenly drawn to a close.”

“I think we kind of all did. But then we had to get you out of jail, and that helped, because we had a purpose…”

Their conversation drifted off into reminiscing about the Metaverse, which was how they found themselves sitting an hour later looking through Yusuke’s sketchbook with Ann’s under eye patches on their faces. Akira had insisted that Ryuji join him, and he didn’t know how to refuse the boy anything. Ann had loved the selfie, at least.

The rest of the day passed peacefully, in laughs and hugs and light kisses, but the time to go home came too soon. After saying goodbye to Morgana, and promising to get everyone to video call him more often so he’d have people to talk to, Ryuji was driven back to the station by Akira’s mother. Leaving Akira at the station was hard, but Ryuji reminded himself it was only for a week, and when Akira told him he loved him, Ryuji was feeling a lot better about everything.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t last.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Akira seemed even lower than before. His text replies were terse, his voice raw when Ryuji called him, and he outright refused to connect to video. Ryuji was terrified that he’d somehow managed to make things worse.

It was late in the evening when Ryuji hung up from that awful call, but there was no way he was going to sleep after that. An idea was beginning to shape in his mind, and he called up Futaba to discuss it; as expected, she was awake, although she typed her replies rather than talking so Sojiro wouldn’t catch her. Together, they refined it, splitting up the tasks. Ryuji would check with Makoto about adding one more to their tutoring sessions while Futaba looked up the jobs Akira had worked at last year.

They met up the next day on the school roof after school to discuss their progress. Makoto had agreed right away, which wasn’t a surprise. The jobs hadn’t been as easy, but Futaba had finally managed to find one that still had an open position. The flower shop owner had been excited, saying they hadn’t been able to find anyone as smart and as reliable since he’d left, and  _ of course _ they could hold the position open for a week or two while they worked out the details. 

They’d saved the hardest for last. Futaba would ask Sojiro about the attic space while Ryuji would handle Akira’s parents and, the one point where he wasn’t entirely confident in his plan, Shujin.

The email to Akira’s parents was easy to write. They knew as well as he did how bad the situation was, and even though he still wasn’t a huge fan of them he had to admit they were reasonable people.

For Shujin, he ended up recruiting Mishima’s help. Luckily, Mishima’s hero worship of Akira hadn’t faded much, and he jumped at the chance to help, organising a meeting with Kawakami in the student council lounge over lunch the following day.

After explaining how Akira was being treated back home, and the way he was acting, Ryuji finally exposed his plan.

“He can’t stay there. It’s destroying him.”

Kawakami seemed sympathetic. “I don’t disagree with you, but where do I come into this?”

“I need you to help me get him a spot back at Shujin.”

Kawakami’s eyes widened. “That isn’t going to be easy after the start of the school year.”

“You know he deserves it. He had the best scores in the whole grade last year despite everything that was going on. There’s no way he won’t catch back up. The school took him on to show how they could reform him last year, right? Well, he’s reformed, and what better way to prove it than to send him out as a successful graduate? Plus, I know you owe him. You have to help me,” he all but begged.

Kawakami heaved a loud sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, and he’s definitely got the academic level to justify it.” Turning to Mishima, she added, “we’re probably going to need you to testify to his academic rigor and integrity, too.”

Ryuji interrupted before they could get any further. “And uh… it’d be great if it could be done by the end of Golden Week.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“He’s coming to visit for the week, and I don’t want to send him back,” he explained.

Looking exhausted, Kawakami said, “I’ll see what I can do. You kids are going to be the death of me.”

* * *

 

Sojiro agreed to let Akira have the attic if he helped out in the cafe on Friday and Saturday nights, and Akira’s parents replied to Ryuji saying they’d consider the idea. Finally, the day of Akira’s return arrived. It had been a very long week for Ryuji, but he wouldn’t relax until he had his boyfriend back in his arms safe and sound.

On the train ride over, Akira had sent him scary texts, about how he didn’t need to come get him at the station, and how he wasn’t sure why he was still around, why he still needed to exist. Ryuji had replied as best he could, but he felt like his words hadn’t had the slightest impact, and it was an immense relief to finally spot Akira’s messy black hair at the station, with the cat face peeking over his shoulder. Ryuji took his hand and brought him home, never breaking physical contact for more than a moment.

When they got to Leblanc, Ryuji spent the whole evening with Akira and Morgana in the attic, reading, chatting, and it seemed like it did all of them some good. By the time Ryuji would have needed to leave to catch the last train, Akira seemed to be doing better, even smiling a bit, but Ryuji couldn’t bring himself to leave him alone. He sent his mom a quick message to tell her not to expect him back that night, and turned to Akira where he sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“Huh? Not at all, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he replied, flicking Akira’s nose.

“Heey!” Akira pressed a hand to his nose, and Ryuji leaned forward to kiss his hand, distantly noticing Morgana slipping down the stairs with a flick of his tail. He kept pressing kisses against him, on his eyelids, his cheeks, pushing aside his bangs to get his eyebrows, the curve of his ear. He was beginning to make his way along his collarbone when Akira knocked him backwards onto the bed, trapping Ryuji beneath him. He kissed him back, long and hard, and when he drew back, looking down at Ryuji through heavily lidded eyes and saying “I’ve missed you” in a throaty voice, Ryuji felt his entire body respond, arching up to press against Akira.

They didn’t get to sleep until very late.

* * *

 

The next afternoon, the whole group of ex-Phantom Thieves got together in Leblanc. When Ann came in with Shiho, Akira just about choked on his coffee.

“I thought you two weren’t…” he trailed off. The two girls looked at him, confused, then understanding flashed into Ann’s eyes.

“Did we never tell you we were back together?”

“No!”

“Augh, sorry! It turned out it was just a misunderstanding. I overreacted when I saw Shiho with that girl at our crepe shop. I was so sure she was cheating on me, the way the girl kept making eyes at her over her chocolate crepe…”

“I just thought she wanted to be my friend... I was so excited, no one else had even said hi to me at my new school and this girl comes along and asks me to hang out. And then she tried to kiss me at the train station!” Shiho shuddered, and Ann put an arm around her shoulders.

“ _ So _ oblivious.”

“We’re stupid idiots,” Shiho said fondly, kissing the side of Ann’s head.

“Yeah,” Ann replied happily.

 

The afternoon passed without further incident, and Ryuji was glad to see that Morgana seemed to have entirely returned to his previous self. Akira even made them all curry for dinner. He handed the plates around the table, bringing Ryuji his plate last and putting it down in front of him with a grin. “Made yours up special, put some love into it.”

Squatting on a bar stool, Futaba made gagging noises. “Ewww! What does that even mean?” Akira swatted at her while everyone laughed, and Ryuji dug into his spicy curry with delight. The feeling of sweat running down his face from food was oddly satisfying — not that he’d ever willingly share that information. He could only imagine where Futaba’s twisted mind would bring it.

 

Ryuji stayed the night again, borrowing one of Akira’s shirts, but he had to go to work for a few hours over the next couple of days; somehow people were even more motivated to work out during the holidays. He wasn’t willing to leave Akira alone yet, but luckily, he had help. Haru came the first day to get him to try out the coffee beans she’d sourced for her coffee shop. Then it was Futaba, with a video game that absolutely  _ had _ to be played in co-op, and Akira was the only person who could do it justice. The third day, Makoto dropped in with some review books. He heard Akira protest that he hadn’t been planning on studying.  _ Good luck denying Makoto _ , Ryuji thought as he walked out the door. Finally, Ryuji had a full day off again. As they sat alone in the attic playing some pointless video game, Akira spoke.

“You know, you don’t have to keep making sure I’m never alone.”

Ryuji winced; he’d hoped Akira wouldn't notice, but what did Akira ever miss? “Sorry. It seemed like a good idea…”

“No, don’t apologize. I like knowing you care. And honestly, it was probably the right thing to do, considering the headspace I was in at the beginning of the week.”

* * *

Despite those words, Ryuji continued to spend all his time with Akira, only going home to pick up clean clothes, answering his mother’s probing looks with apologies. Finally, she told him she hoped he and Akira were being safe, which left him blushing and sputtering in awkward denial. They weren’t doing  _ that _ yet, but she’d hit a bit too close to the truth for comfort; it had been a week of firsts, hands slipping under clothes late at night in the dark on Akira’ unstable bed. They hadn’t quite gotten to the point where they were comfortable discussing it in broad daylight, but it was incredibly nice, finding new ways to get closer to Akira. It was more than nice, too, but if he thought about that he’d blush even brighter.

Akira’s parents replied towards the middle of the week, agreeing to let Akira stay in Tokyo if they could work out all the details, but the end of the week came and there were still no news from Mishima or Kawakami. Akira spent his last day in Leblanc, helping out Sojiro before packing, his mood visibly deteriorating as the day went on.

Ryuji couldn’t stop checking his phone, until Akira finally asked him if he needed to be somewhere else. He gave some excuse about waiting on a call from his mom, and tried to distract himself by helping Akira fit his clothes back into his suitcase, bulging at the seams with the 5 bags of coffee he’d added in there.

Finally, when Ryuji had all but given up hope, his phone rang as Mishima called him.

“Yes?” he answered impatiently.

“He’s in! It was so hard, you have no idea, everyone was on vacation and we kept having to call and call and call but we  _ did it _ !” Mishima was so excited he was half screaming, and Ryuji hoped Akira hadn’t overheard.

“It’s 100% sure?”

“Yep! He just has to come in to the office Tuesday morning and sign some papers!”

“Thank you so much,” Ryuji said with relief. “You’re my hero, dude. I owe you  _ big time _ .”

“Yeah, you do. Anyway, can’t wait to get everyone together and celebrate the official return!”

“For sure. I gotta go tell him now, ok?”

Ryuji hung up, feeling Akira’s curious eyes on him.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, savoring the moment, and Akira insisted. “ _ Tell me what,  _ Ryuji _? _ ”

“That you gotta unpack that suitcase.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not going back, Aki. You’re staying here.”

Akira looked at him with utter disbelief. “If that’s a joke, it’s a really bad one.”

“It’s not a joke. You have a job waiting for you at the flower shop, Sojiro said you could have the attic back, Makoto’s gonna tutor you if you need any help catching up on what you missed, your parents said it was ok, and that was Mishima telling me he and Kawakami managed to get you back into Shujin. You’re never going back to that awful place and those awful people.”

Akira was shock-still for a heartbeat, then threw himself at Ryuji, crying and laughing at the same time. 

Ryuji caught him, rubbing his boyfriend’s back as he shook in his arms.

“What did I ever do to deserve you,” Akira said against his neck, and then, not leaving Ryuji time to reply, “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

 

The first week back was good, seeing Akira every day at school, studying together, but it was bad as well. Ryuji started sleeping back in his own house, but he called Akira every night before going to bed, and half the time Akira was crying, back in his pit of dark thoughts and Ryuji had to pull him out, gently, telling him how much he loved him, reminding him of all the good things in his life, of how special he was. By the end of the week, Ryuji knew he couldn’t keep doing this alone. The problem was to find someone who would understand; while the story of the Metaverse had come out during Shido’s trial, the details had been kept under wraps, and Ryuji’s goal wasn’t to get Akira locked up in a mental hospital.

He was studying with Makoto and Akira in a booth at Leblanc on Saturday afternoon, when the answer literally walked through the door. Okay, Takemi wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she  _ was _ a doctor; that had to count for something at least. She was also one of the people who had known Akira the longest in Tokyo, but most importantly, she was one of the rare few who knew about the Metaverse. He called her up the next day, and she accepted his request to see Akira; now he only needed to convince the actual patient.

To his surprise, Akira agreed to see Takemi easily. Monday afternoon saw them walking hand-in-hand to her back-alley office, where Ryuji sat in the waiting room while Akira went in. When he came out half an hour later, his eyes were rimmed with red, but he seemed calmer than he had all week. Ryuji thanked Takemi, feeling a bit lighter.

* * *

 

As the days got longer and warmer, Ryuji watched Akira get better, little by little. Exams came and went, and as expected, Akira took back the top spot that was rightfully his. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but Ryuji saw the pride in his small smile, and the joy at his friends’ praise. The uncontrollable crying tapered off, and around mid-June, Akira stopped going to see Takemi.

 

Akira was happy... most of the time. Sometimes, though, there’d be a re-run of a Phantom Thieves special on TV, or they’d walk by a pair of red gloves in a store, or a kitsune mask over a door, and that sad, nostalgic look would come over Akira. Ryuji longed to soothe it away, to find the thing that would finally take away the last traces of Akira’s grief.

The burst of inspiration came one muggy summer afternoon, as Ryuji looked at pictures of people cosplaying as characters from his favorite manga on his phone. It was obvious, in retrospect, and he wondered how it had taken him so long to think of it. It wasn’t easy — he had to get Futaba to help him find the right clothes online, and commissioned one of Yusuke’s sculpture student friends to make the masks, but by the end of the summer he had two nearly perfect replicas of Joker and Skull’s Metaverse outfits.

Putting his on, he had to admit he missed it, feeling all-powerful as his costume came to pieces around him, and the strength he’d had. He wouldn’t trade his current life for it; looking at your friends falling bruised and battered, being hit over and over, the pain healed away but not forgotten, the terror of being chased by an exceedingly strong shadow… it had been so hard, physically but mentally as well. But he couldn’t deny that they’d had some fun in there too, singing in the Monabus, falling asleep all piled up together as they drove back up the many floors. They were memories he’d always cherish.

Ryuji put a long coat over his outfit despite the heat, hoping it would be enough to go unnoticed. His mask stayed in his bag, along with the second outfit. Akira was expecting him this evening to watch a movie, but Ryuji had different plans.

When he got to Leblanc, he paused for a moment downstairs to put on his yellow gloves and mask, leaving the coat on the back of a booth seat, and made his way upstairs.

“Hey, Joker,” he called out when he got to the top of the stairs. Akira spun in his desk chair and stared, speechless, as Ryuji walked into the room. He gave Akira the bag, and watched him pull out the clothes, the long cape and the mask and even the heeled boots — those had been particularly hard to find in the right size.

“Why...I love it, but why did you get this?”

“You still miss the Metaverse, don’t you?”

Akira nodded.

“I thought maybe I could help you miss it a bit less.”

Ryuji waited while Akira changed into the outfit, then took pictures of him on his phone so he could see the whole look. Ryuji couldn’t take his eyes off Akira. He loved Akira, loved him when he was at his best and at his worst, at his strongest and at his weakest, loved every facet of who he was. But there was no denying that Akira as Joker was definitely, definitely one of the hottest.

Akira looked up from the pictures, and grinned at Ryuji, that wild, taking-down-a-god grin, and his grey eyes beneath the mask were positively  _ scorching _ . Swallowing hard, he watched Joker walk up to him, then put a single hand to his chest and shove him back into the couch. Ryuji let himself fall onto it, the bullet casings slung around his hips stinging a bit as he sat on them, but the pain was barely a blip in his mind, so thoroughly was it occupied by the man in front of him. Joker straddled him, and when he grabbed Ryuji’s scarf and pulled it to close the gap between them, consciousness fled Ryuji’s body. There were only Joker and Skull, that night, making up for months of lost time.

The next morning, Ryuji looked at the costumes, discarded on the floor hours before, and thought ruefully that it was probably a good thing he hadn’t thought of them earlier. Also a good thing he’d thought to bring protection last night. And that Morgana hadn’t come home. Wait.  _ Had _ Morgana come home? Ryuji crossed his fingers, hoping really hard he hadn’t, and turned back to Akira. The first rays of sun made motes of dust sparkle as they drifted in through the window, landing on Akira’s soft, disheveled curls, skimming off his back and over his arm where it lay on Ryuji’s waist. Ryuji ran a hand along Akira’s side, relishing feeling the entire length of his smooth, toned body uninterrupted from shoulder to knee. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to do it again, falling asleep naked in a room without a door, but today Ryuji didn’t care. This night had been theirs, and theirs only, and he’d hold the memory of it in his heart for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

Weeks passed, and things got worse at times, better at others, as they tend to do. Life wasn’t always easy, but Akira didn’t mind. It didn’t need to be perfect to be worth living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, if this fic, and most particularly Akira's thoughts in "Going There: Home," resonates with you, I want you to know that you are not alone. The great big secret is, so many people don't know what they want to do, changed their minds halfway through studies or even years into a career. The idea that everyone else has it all together and planned out is a lie. Ryuji's words for Akira are for you, too: It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what you want to do yet. It's ok. You can do something now and change your mind later. You are not out of time now and you will not be out of time later. Hey, take my word for it: I started writing two months ago, at the great age of 29 ;)
> 
> And that's Pegoryu Week 2018 finished! It was a hectic, wild ride, but I _love_ how much it motivated me to create, both in terms of [visual art](https://thermopylod.tumblr.com/post/175585216253/transfer-kid-and-vulgar-boy-i-havent-painted) and fics (almost 25k words over the week!). A huge thanks to the Pegoryu Discord for all the endless support and validation throughout this experience. I don't wanna name names, because every single person in there is excellent!
> 
> Finally, please go check out the [collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pegoryuweek2018) and read all the other amazing content created over the week!


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